The Haircut
by Llmav
Summary: In which Ross is a mess and Laura decides to do something about it.


**A/N; I've been too frustrated and unmotivated lately to write anything remotely good or serious. Clearly, the concert pics the other day helped though, as this is my second Raura OS in the last few days. I guess inspiration is slowly coming back.**

**If you're a fan of Teen Beach Movie and/or Ross's long hair, I sincerely apologize. You will probably and most likely be better off not reading this.**

**This is my last rant about that god damn hair. I promise.**

**This is super dumb and a joke and I wrote it fast, but God would I like for it to happen.**

**All of it.**

**But especially the haircut.**

She couldn't help but sigh as she saw him walk towards her as she was waiting for him in the too hot, outside parking lot, her heart automatically beating a bit faster, very much so to her own dismay. It had been awhile since they saw each other, him being busy on tour and her being busy with, well, life.

They were spending the day together, for one quick promotional event, just the two of them, as both Calum and Raini had engagements elsewhere. _He_ was set to take off again in a couple of days, as well, flying out to shoot the sequel to a movie that only God and money-hungry Disney people knew why it was being made.

He was going to spend the next month or so in Puerto Rico, doing who knows what with who knows who.

Not that she wanted to think about it.

Right.

Not _wanting_ to didn't mean that she didn't, though.

She sighed again as he continued to make his way over towards her.

She had missed him, of course she had, but he looked nothing like the boy turned man that she had not so secretly had a crush on since the first day they met.

He had changed, not _just_ look-wise, or maybe it was that they _both_ had changed, or perhaps they were simply growing up and inadvertently growing in different directions, deciding to go down very different paths...

She really wasn't sure.

All she knew was that it made her sad.

Very sad.

She _missed_ him. She missed _him_. She missed _them_. Somehow, they had this connection, this bond, this somewhat unwanted yet amazing electrical tension, an electricity that was thrilling and annoying all at once, and even if she did try to deny it on a fairly consistent basis it was always there. Always.

Yeah, she missed him.

Other than a few quick run-ins here and there, including a few reward shows and a quick surprise visit at one of his concerts, they hadn't really seen each other or interacted much over the last few months. She was used to it, he rarely kept in frequent contact with her when he was away, but it hurt her a bit nonetheless.

She tried to not pay attention to all the rumors that were constantly popping up about him, although it was a bit harder than she would like to admit. She cared for him, and part of her was pretty sure that she always would. Even if she didn't really want to.

He was getting close now.

Wait a minute.

What the crap was wrong with his hair? She generally wanted to run her fingers through it, imagining tugging on it, making him groan while...messy sex hair was kind of his signature. Today, however, it looked like he either had a group of over-bleached, defiant worms or a pot of old spaghetti coming out of his usually handsome head.

It definitely did not remind her of sex. She kind of didn't even want to touch it. At all.

What was the band's next commercial engagement, spokespeople for a floor mop company?

It sure looked dirty enough to fit the bill.

He greeted her with a hug, one of those hugs that embraced and covered her whole entire body and she felt protected and it was weird, because she really didn't need protection, but it was still so strangely good because it felt like home.

A slightly messier version of a home than she would have preferred, but her home nonetheless.

...

They were in a small room, alone for the first time of the day as the make-up artists had just finished, seated next to each other facing the long wall mirror, both of them quiet as none of them knew exactly where to start.

"So, how was tour?" She was working hard on sounding cheery.

"Good."

That's all he was going to give her? He had been _everywhere_, touring for _months_, and all he could say was "good"? Ah, he could be so damn infuriating.

"How about you, how's...life?" He was trying to sound as cheery as her, but it was hard as he was oddly nervous. He had been thinking of her a lot.

"Busy."

That's all she was going to give him? She had filmed a movie, filmed a music video, graduated for high school, gone to not one but two proms, all in the span of a few months, and all she could say was "busy"? Ah, she could be so damn infuriating.

Quiet.

He cleared his throat.

"Well, uhm...I watched the music video and I...liked it. A lot. I never got a chance to tell you when I saw you in New York."

"I know. But you sent me a _message_, remember?"

What was with her tone of voice? Was she _mocking_ him?

To be honest, his emotions had been all over the place while watching that freaking three-minute long musical torture.

Jealous, turned on, jealous, incredibly turned on, proud, very proud, so turned on that he needed a few minutes to himself.

A few minutes that had turned into a few hours.

And then he had watched it again. And again. And again.

Yeah.

"It was _bomb_." She made a face as she quoted his message.

As a songwriter, he clearly had a way with words.

"What? It _was_."

She was just shaking her head in what he could only interpret as disapproval.

Time to change the topic.

"So, how was graduation?" He sounded overly joyful this time around, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Amazing. Oh, and thanks for _that_ heartfelt message as well."

"What? What was wrong with _that_ one?"

"_Congrats_ _dude_?"

"Hey, at least I remembered."

"Yeah..."

He was starting to get mad. "Hey, you know I wanted to be there..."

She looked at him with those eyes, the eyes that he couldn't get out of his freaking head even when he was actively trying to. Which just so happened to be way too often.

"Ross, a year ago I would have said that I did know that. But today, at this point, I don't know that you really did want to."

"That's not fair. You know how busy I am, I..."

She shrugged as she interrupted him. "I heard life isn't always fair."

He stayed quiet, his facial expression serious, and she felt bad.

"Look, it's just...we seem to have very different priorities, that's all..." She sounded less mad now.

But they both knew that she probably would have been there had it been the other way around.

Ouch.

There it was again.

That sting, or maybe it was a stab, in his left side chest area.

He couldn't _stand_ not being around her, he couldn't _stand_ it that he missed out on all the important things going on in her life, he couldn't _stand_ it that she seemed mad at him.

He captured her eyes in the mirror reflection, moving his long hair out of his face to be able to see her more clearly, then almost drowning in her deep, mesmerizing brownness.

Yep. Electrical tension was very strong, too strong.

"Well, I guess _some_ of us are still trying to figure things out". He sounded sad.

She was shaking her head at him. "Ross, I don't think _anyone_ has it all figured out."

"_You_ do..."

She shrugged. "I don't have things _nearly_ as figured out as you may think."

She had a lot of things figured out, her feelings for him clearly not being one of them.

She had only been alone with him for a few minutes, and all her resolutions were quickly dissolving and even she no longer believed the lies she kept on telling herself in regards to not wanting him.

Crap, she was almost willing to touch that hair.

Gah.

Their eyes met in the mirror reflection again, and she knew that he noticed that she quickly looked away, the familiar nervousness that she usually felt in his company making its presence known by a speeding heart rate and spaghetti legs. Good thing she was still sitting down.

She glanced over at him again a few moments later, and she wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry.

He was _there_, there with _her_, and that made her incredibly happy. So so happy.

But he also looked so so ridiculous.

"What's wrong, Laura?"

She played dumb. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean 'what do I mean'. You look like you're watching a bad horror movie or something."

Oh, she kind of was.

"It's the hair." It was the first thing that came to mind.

It wasn't _just_ the hair. Obviously.

But shit, come to think of it, it was definitely part of it. A big part of it.

"What's wrong with it?"

She knew he was probably making puppy-eyes at her, but she really couldn't see as the damn mess was now semi-covering his eyes once again.

"What _isn't_ wrong with it?"

Her fingers were aching, itching, not from the usual desire of wanting to run her fingers through it, but to somehow find a way to rip it out.

"It's not _that_ bad."

"Aha. Shampoo was invented for a reason, you know."

He smirked. "As a matter a fact, I _do_ know. Some German dude invented it in the 20s."

Only _he_ would memorize random crap like that.

"So then please use it."

"I don't know. Some people seem to like it." Smirk city. He couldn't help it.

She was suddenly wishing that the hair would cover his damn mouth too.

"_I_ know you can get girls, _you_ know you can get girls, really, no need to point it out, I get it, it doesn't mean that it looks _good_. You look dumb. Why don't you love yourself?"

He was pouting. "That was mean. And perhaps I wasn't talking about girls." Actually, he hadn't been. His brother had told him that it looked good as recently as the very same morning.

"I'm sorry." She didn't sound sorry.

He was still pouting.

Suddenly, she turned to him and smiled.

"I know". She looked excited, the way he could only imagine she would look if an opportunity to meet George Clooney would somehow magically present itself.

"What?" He sounded as unsure as he was. She was definitely up to something.

"Let me cut it." She was still smiling.

"What?"

"Your mom has _clearly_ been sleeping on the job, so let me help you out. I'm doing you a favor. _Believe_ me."

"It's not up to my mom anymore, I'm 18 now, I can make my own decisions." He sounded like a grumpy four year old. A grumpy four year old with terrible hair.

"Well, just because you _can_ make your own decisions doesn't mean you _should_. You're obviously not making the right ones." She was pretty sure he understood that she wasn't _just_ talking about his current hairstyle. Or rather, lack thereof.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds before shaking his head in disagreement.

"I can't, I have to keep it for the movie." It was the truth.

"Well, then I'm doing all those poor souls who will watch it a favor as well. Brady already has a crappy personality, the least you can do is make him look good."

"What do you mean 'those poor souls', _you're_ not going to watch it?"

Was she going to waste an hour and a half of her life to watch a movie that was not only sure to have too many catchy tunes, along with semi-bad acting and over-choreographed dance numbers, topped off with a dialogue that seemed to be written by a group of pre-schoolers, but also with a leading couple that had less chemistry than her and her refrigerator?

Yeah, come to think of it, she probably would. After all, she would do pretty much anything to support him.

"I'll watch it if you let me cut that damn hair."

He shook his head. "They're going to be pissed."

"Who? And does it really matter? Aren't you a rock _rebel_ nowadays, anyways? Sex, drugs and rock roll, right?"

He was trying to ignore the now constant stabbing feelings in his chests, as he knew that her mocking tone was not just for fun. He could tell that she was kind of hurt, and that hurt him.

Perhaps there had been a little too much of all of the above over the last few months.

"But I have a contract..."

"But I'm doing _them_, the movie people, a favor too. Really, come on, Brady shouldn't look like shit."

"I don't look like _shit_."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Brady shouldn't look like a drug-upped version of Bret Michaels. It will scare the poor kids. Do it for the kids, Ross."

He looked at her for a minute, as if he was deep in thought.

"I'll let you cut it if you come to visit me in Puerto Rico." He sounded dead serious.

Now she was the one hesitating, trying to figure out what to say while trying to not over analyze the fact that he had just invited her to come and visit him. She knew he was probably figuring that she wouldn't agree, expecting her to employ her usual cock-blocking routine that she had pretty much perfected to a tee.

But why _wouldn't_ she go visit him?

They _were_ friends, after all. Friends could go and visit each other on set, right?

She would _so_ fly to visit Calum on set, too.

Not.

And then she remembered something. "I don't know why you would need me, or want me, there. After all, your whole family will be there, so you won't _miss_ anyone. Just like you didn't _miss_ anyone while on tour."

Shit, so she had seen that.

"I...Laur...I didn't mean it like that, I mean I..."

"No, it was fine. Good to hear, actually. It made it easier, I don't know, to move on, I guess."

"You...moved on?" His voice was uneven.

She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure if she had (no, she hadn't), but at this point, she wasn't even sure if there was anything to move on _from_.

"I don't know Ross..."

"I missed you a lot, Laura. Like, a lot a lot. I didn't mean it like that, I..."

She was looking at him in the mirror reflection, looking slightly upset and serious.

Crap, he was still hot. So hot.

That damn hair, though. It made it hard to focus on anything else.

It needed to come off.

"Whatever, _deal_. I've always wanted to go to Puerto Rico anyways."

He looked surprised and a bit scared as he realized that she had called his bluff.

But then he smiled. "Where are you going to find scissors in here, anyways?"

"Don't worry about it." She had absolutely no clue.

"I bet you won't find any." Self-assured smirk.

She shrugged. "Watch me."

He did watch her, not being able to tear his eyes away from her dress-clad body as she exited the small room.

She returned less than five minute later, closing the door shut behind her, a pair of large scissors in hand.

"Found it!"

He was shaking his head in disbelief.

She looked at him, innocently. "What?"

"You know _what_."

She shrugged. "Everyone was fairly eager to help me find one, once I told them what my purpose was."

He pouted. "Does _everyone_ hate my hair?"

She shook her head. "Hate is a strong word. Dislike it to a degree of wanting to puke is probably more like it."

He groaned. "Come on. Where is the adorkable Laura I know and love?"

She shrugged. "I guess she's gone, along with the puppy-boy that _I_ used to know and love. I guess we both grew up."

Oh, had she ever. She had always been cute, but now, now she was so fucking hot that he didn't know what to do with or how to contain himself.

And she still somehow managed to be sweet (at least she usually was) and just fucking...perfect.

But he missed the days when they had been closer. A lot.

She was standing behind him now, snapping the scissors in the air a few times before grabbing his hair.

She looked a bit nervous, and that made him _more_ than a bit nervous.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

She laughed. "Not at all. But let's be honest, it will be absolutely impossible to make you look worse."

"Thanks Laur, you're too sweet."

She laughed. "Don't worry, I'll make you look good. Well, better. I'm not a freaking magician. But just trust me."

He realized he did.

She grabbed a handful of his hair, running the scissor through it, and just like that, the first cut was complete, the small bunch of blond hair spreading like straws of hay on the dark floor surface, a firework of yellow locks exploding all over the carpet.

The second cut followed, almost orgasmic, followed by a third, a forth, a fifth...it felt so good.

Seeing the hair on the floor was strangely cathartic, as if each cut of the scissor was bringing _him_, the old yet younger him, back a bit more.

And then, before she knew it, he _was_ back, looking like his regular hot self again, sex God status fully reclaimed.

And she was turned on, so turned on, it was really weird yet strangely exciting.

Very very exciting.

Her fingers were rubbing into his scalp, massaging his head in slow circles as she smiled at him in the mirror, and it felt so amazing. Her skin on him created tingles, shooting out from his spine and throughout his whole body, affecting him in all sorts of ways but primarily in his middle regions where he was now hard as a rock.

He was rocking _that_ rock, indeed.

They looked at each other in the mirror again. And again. And again.

Long looks.

Uncomfortable silence.

Sexual electrical tension.

Yep. Electricity was definitely back. Full force. Live wire.

Actually, scratch that.

It was more like a freaking nuclear plant, atoms splitting left and right, energy jumping all over the place, things getting ready to explode any minute.

"See, now I can see your eyes again." Her voice was shaking, just a little.

Oh, could she ever.

His eyes were drilling deep into hers in the mirror reflection, like he was trying to tell her things that he couldn't or wouldn't or maybe didn't want to put into words.

"I'm sorry." His voice was low, unsure.

Her heart was racing. "For what?"

He just shrugged. What was he _not_ sorry for?

"I guess...everything."

"You don't owe me an explanation, you don't owe me _anything_." It sadden her too much that that was the truth.

"I know, I know...I guess I just don't want to disappoint you."

"I just don't want you to disappoint _yourself_. You...you're the most talented person I have ever met, Ross, and I would just hate to see you fuck that up."

He flinched at her cursing. She didn't do that very often.

"I won't. I promise."

"Good."

Crap, he loved her. Not that he had been in love a lot of times, this one time was really it, so he didn't have much experience to draw from, but still, he just...he knew.

He loved her.

Nobody else ever compared. It was really kind of annoying.

He rose and embraced her. "Thank you, Laur." They both knew he wasn't just talking about the haircut.

Oh, she smelled so good.

She expected him to let go of her, to soon release her from that hug, but he didn't.

He could feel her body heat being shared with him, or maybe she wasn't sharing it as much as he was stealing it, but regardless, it was making him feel more alive than he had in months.

She fit so perfectly in his arms, she really should stay there. For always.

She moved her head to look at him, her face now not far away from his, a small smile on her lips and an expectant but a bit cautious look in her eyes, the look of waiting for something that you really wanted yet didn't want at all.

Almost as if she really wanted him to kiss her but knowing that he probably wouldn't...

"I've been thinking of you so much, Laur..." He was still hugging her, he couldn't let go.

"Me too."

And then he surprised both of them when he leaned down and fucking finally did it, his nose quickly rubbing up against hers before his lips met hers in a semi-soft kiss.

His lips were soft against hers, yet he could feel himself harden, or rather, harden more, almost immediately. And then the kiss hardened, as well, and all, of a sudden there was hands traveling everywhere and hair pulling and deep kisses that he couldn't have enough of.

He had had no intentions of taking it any farther, really, he hadn't, but she didn't seem to mind his mouth in hers, like at all, as she was now tugging on the hair at his neck, that was as of recently of much shorter length.

It made him go a bit insane. A bit insane and a making him a bit, overwhelmingly horny.

Gah.

She couldn't stop running her fingers through his hair. Sex hair was back and it was sexier than ever. And so was he. His tongue in her mouth made her lose control, his body tightly pressed up against hers made her lose her mind, and all she wanted was to lose her clothes.

"Laur..."

"Yeah..."

"I want you. I really, really want you. I've been wanting this, you, for forever. You're all that I want. I want all of you." His voice was coming out in short puffs, as if he was short in air.

She smiled and took his hand, positioning it against her bare skin, underneath her dress, moaning softly as his fingers immediately traced along her legs, making their way in between her thighs, a louder moan accompanied with a male groan soon ringing out into the room as his digits found her already soaking wet pussy. He rubbed her, slowly, before removing her panties, the fabric landing in a messy pile on the floor as he pushed his fingers into her, moving slowly, relishing in her tight wetness. She reached to unzip his pants, palming him, letting him know that she really, really, _wanted_ him too, pulling them down along with his pink (of course) boxers, before she let her hand embrace him, feeling his length, then stroking him at a quickly increasing speed.

"I really, really want you too, Ross..."

And then he lost it.

He turned her around, bending her over the small make-up bench, her hands resting on top of it, lifting up the skirt of the dress before positing himself behind her, his lips on her neck as he pushed himself into her in one fast, deep thrust, both of them biting their lips in only semi-successful attempts at keeping quiet as he continued to shove into her, slowly but hardly, relentlessly pumping her, her pussy embracing him tight and greeting him in wet hugs. It was heaven, pure heaven, and he desperately wanted it to be good for her, as well.

He already knew that it was fucking _mind-blowing_ for _him_.

She could barely contain her screams as he was fucking her hard from behind, her ass rubbing up tightly against him, his face now clearly visible to her in the mirror reflection, the reflection of them going at it like fucking rabbits, or even _fucking_ rabbits, in the small make-up room.

It was good, so good, _he_ was good, so good...

Sex God, indeed.

He suddenly pulled out, while looking like he was almost in pain from doing so, grabbing her by the arm.

"Come."

He laid her down on the nearby couch, her back pressing hard into the semi-soft cushion, as he covered her body with his. He was on top of her and back in her, inside of her, inside of _her_, and he growled loudly because there was no way he couldn't.

She reached up and covered his mouth with her little hand and he almost laughed. As if that would keep him quiet.

"Shhhh, there are people outside. And the door isn't locked."

He smirked and growled again. And again. And again, matching the noise with the rhythm of his thrusts, each shove quickly moving him towards the finsih line and he was quietly praying that she would cross it with him.

She was moaning in his ear, her hips lifting off the couch to meet his every movement, contracting irregularly around him and he realized that _this_ was how it always should be.

Well, maybe it shouldn't always be on a beat-up couch in some smallish back room, but him, her, them, together...he couldn't imagine ever growing tired of it. Ever.

He knew he was getting close, so close, so he reached down between them, finding her clit and rubbing it in small movements while licking her neck in similar circles, small circles with big impact as she soon came undone, pulling hard on his hair, his beautiful, perfect-length hair, screamingly whispering his name into his eat as he released too loudly inside of her.

All that could be heard in the room was quick breaths and speeding heart rates.

Holy hell.

And then, not a minute later, someone knocked on the door.

"5 minutes, guys."

They both froze for a second, not sure if the person on the other side was going to open the door, breathing heavy sighs of relief when the person walked away.

They jumped up, and got dressed quickly before looking at each other, almost giggling.

"That was close." She sounded happy, so happy, almost giddy.

"That was _amazing_." So did he.

_She_ was amazing.

She nodded. She somehow had always known that it would be. "You were too loud, though."

He smirked. "What can I say, I'm _loud_."

She looked at him in mock horror. "Just..._don't_."

He laughed.

"So, what now? You're going to forget all about me when you're over there, partying like a rock star?"

He knew she was trying to joke, but he also knew she was serious.

"Ah, come on, Laur, you know that I just can't forget about you..." He was smirking yet oddly serious.

She made another face. "Sweet. Did you _really_ just reference your ridiculously overplayed song about a drunken one-night stand?"

He laughed as he walked over to hug her. "Fine. How about 'There's no way I can make it without you"?

She nodded. "Now we're talking" and she kissed him again before exiting the room.

It was time to work.

...

The promotional event flew by in a blur. A blur of stolen, secretive looks, shy smiles and rapid heartbeats. A blur of excitement and content p, sexual bliss.

She felt so relaxed, so happy, and judging by the smile glued on his face, he was feeling the exact same way.

Finally.

...

The event was over, and they exited the building together. Halfway to her car, he grabbed her hand and she looked at him and smiled, as he was running his other hand through his now nice-looking hair.

"Thank you, it does look better. It _feels_ better, too."

"I know. And Ross?"

"Yeah?"

"Im going to give you a few more pointers. And you're going to listen."

He nodded, amused. "Okay."

"No more bandanas. You look freaking ridiculous."

"Got it."

"And buy a new pair of board shorts. Please. You can afford it."

"What are you, my new stylist?"

She made a face of disgust. "That's your _mom's_ job, Ross. And I really have absolutely no desire to be your _mom_."

"Good", and he pulled her into a very non-motherish kiss. Lots of tongue.

They had reached her car, and he soon pushed her up against it, caring less if anyone could see them as he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow, which there kind of wasn't as he was leaving, both of them momentarily losing track of time and space as their mouths made urgent, passionate love.

He broke away, minutes or maybe hours later, he really wasn't sure, reluctantly.

He had to go.

"See you in Puerto Rico." It wasn't a question.

She nodded, and he was still smiling as he reached in for one last kiss, then walking away towards his car, pumping his fist a few times in the air.

Dork.

He was _such_ a dork.

But she couldn't help but smile, because she knew that maybe, perhaps and certainly, the man-boy she was still in love with was still around.

And he finally looked better than he had in months.


End file.
